Chapter 38: The Invincible Mad God
The five burly men were no ordinary thugs. They'd followed Baldy for years, their fists and ferocity making them feared in Beitian's underworld. They'd grown cocky, convinced no one in this small city could stand against them. But in that instant, something shifted. The "pretty boy" before them seemed to transform—an aura of raw, unyielding power washed over the office like a tidal wave, leaving them gasping for air. Beads of sweat dotted their foreheads as they locked eyes with Wu Yifan, confusion and fear flickering in their stares.
*Who is this guy?*
*Why does he feel like a different person?*
*Is he playing weak to lure us in?*
Baldy, however, hadn't felt the shift. He stood apart, left hand on his hip, right hand waving wildly, posturing like a mob boss in a bad movie. "What are you idiots standing around for? Beat him! Break him! Teach this punk a lesson!" he roared, spit flying. "Daring to act tough in front of me? I, Zhang Shixiong, never cared about losers like you! You're nothing—*nothing*!"
Wu's smile widened, cold and amused, like he was watching a clown juggle knives. He said nothing, just pulled a cigarette from his pocket, lit it, and let the smoke curl around his face. There was a detachment in his eyes, a calm that bordered on indifference. "A word of advice," he murmured, smoke drifting from his lips. "Pride comes before a fall. I don't want to humiliate you. Walk away while you still can."
"Who the hell do you think you're talking to?" Baldy shrieked, as if stung by a bee. His small eyes bulged, bloodshot with rage. "I'll show you 'humiliation'! Kill him! Fucking kill him! We came to Yingjie Group for business, not to deal with this shit!"
The five men hesitated, but loyalty (and fear of Baldy) won out. They'd never backed down from a fight, and pride wouldn't let them start now. They exchanged glances, silent resolve passing between them—*no matter what, we charge*. With a unified roar, they lunged, moving like tigers pouncing on prey. Their fists and feet blurred, a flurry of blows aimed at Wu. Desks and chairs went flying, crashing into walls with a cacophony of splintering wood and clanging metal. The office dissolved into chaos, leaving onlookers pale and trembling.
Wu flicked his cigarette butt to the floor, crushed it under his shoe, and shot Susan—a wide-eyed, frozen mess—a reassuring nod. Then he moved. His arms whipped out like iron bars, no fancy moves, just raw, brutal force. It was street-fight simple, but amplified by something otherworldly—each swing carrying the weight of a sledgehammer.
*Thud! Thud! Thud!*
Two men hadn't even closed the distance when their stomachs erupted in pain, as if struck by a hammer. They doubled over, bile burning their throats, then went flying—160 pounds each, 320 pounds combined—slamming into a pair of office chairs. The chairs disintegrated with a *crack*, and the men crumpled to the floor, faces turning green.
*Splat!*
Blood sprayed from their lips as they clutched their bellies, staring up at Wu in horror. That kind of power… it wasn't human.
Baldy's jaw dropped, his mouth hanging open wide enough to fit an egg. He stood rigid, a statue of shock, his cigarette smoldering inches from his fingers without him noticing. *When did this guy get so tough?* He knew his men—hardened fighters, men who laughed off kicks and punches. But now they looked like ragdolls, broken and whimpering.
*He was playing weak to lure us in*, Baldy realized, rage boiling in his veins. *He wanted to humiliate me in front of everyone. To crush the reputation I've built for years.* It had been decades since anyone dared challenge him like this. He ground his teeth, stamping out his cigarette, and glared at Wu, who was now tangling with the remaining three thugs. His fists clenched so tight, his knuckles popped.
Susan was petrified. She'd never imagined Baldy would storm in like this, let alone that Wu—this seemingly ordinary security guard—would fight back with such ferocity. He moved like a god of war, unstoppable and ruthless. She huddled in the corner, hands over her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I'm not scared… I'm not scared…" she whimpered, though her voice trembled. "Ms. Wang… I'm so scared. Will they kill me? I don't want to die…"
Wu knew he was in his element now. With 2 enhancement points fueling him, his arms felt like they were forged from steel—stronger than Sun Wukong's golden staff, unbreakable and devastating. Simple swings, the kind street thugs used, became weapons of destruction. The remaining three men screamed as his fists connected, their attacks crumbling before his strength. They stumbled back, bloodied and beaten, no trace of their earlier bravado.
Then, chaos. One thug, unnoticed in the fray, slipped behind Wu, pulling a sharp dagger from his waistband. He lunged, driving the blade toward Wu's back with a snarl.
Wu felt the wind shift, the cold glint of metal registering a second too late. Pain flared in his back—not crippling, but sharp enough to make him grunt. *2 points aren't enough for full invincibility*, he thought, spinning around. His right hand shot out, clamping around the thug's throat, lifting him off the ground like a ragdoll.
"You… you're a monster!" the thug gasped. He was 6'2", a brute with a scarred face, but in Wu's grip, he was helpless—kicking and clawing like a child. Terror had hollowed him out, his face as white as a sheet. "I… I stabbed you… how are you…?"
He'd felt the dagger hit home—solid, unyielding, like striking stone. It shattered everything he knew. *People die when you stab them. That's the rule.* But Wu? He'd barely flinched.
"He's not human!" the thug shrieked, voice cracking. "Unkillable! Immortal!"
The office fell silent. Everyone had seen the attack—the dagger sinking into Wu's back, the thug's triumphant sneer, then… nothing. No blood, no collapse, just Wu standing tall, holding his attacker aloft. They didn't need to hear the thug's raving to understand: the stab had landed. It just hadn't *worked*.
*Who survives a dagger to the back?*
The remaining four men froze, their eyes darting to Baldy. Fighting Wu now felt like suicide.
Baldy's jaw tightened. He'd come to Yingjie Group dreaming of power—taking over the company, bedding Wang Xuefei, ruling Beitian's underworld. Instead, he was staring down a man who laughed off blades. He took a deep breath, forcing a smirk. "Impressive. That's… that's vajra body technique, isn't it? The unbreakable martial art from legends. I'm Zhang Shixiong. To think such skills exist outside of stories…"
Wu raised an eyebrow. *Vajra body? Works for me.* He'd never heard of it, but if Baldy wanted to believe in martial arts myths, all the better. The truth about enhancement points needed to stay buried. "You know more than most," he said, voice cool. "Must've paid attention over the years." It wasn't a confirmation, but it might as well have been.
Baldy's confidence flickered. "Your skills are great, but I've got 700, 800 men. Cross me, and you'll regret it. This city isn't big enough for both of us."
Wu smiled, dropping the thug at his feet. He picked up the dagger, examining it. Then, in one fluid motion, he pinched the blade between his thumb and forefinger.
*Crack!*
The metal snapped cleanly in two.
Gasps echoed through the office. The thugs stared at the broken blade, their bodies shaking—fear, primal and unshakable, seizing them.
Wu's eyes bored into Baldy, sharp as eagle talons, his voice a low growl. "700 men? 7,000? They're ants. If I want you dead, not even gods could stop me."
Baldy felt sweat soak his shirt. Wu's gaze was a physical thing—sharp, deadly, promising violence. He stumbled back, tripping over a chair, until his back hit the wall. "Y-you… you…"
Wu stood like a deity now—tall, unyielding, radiating power. If golden light had flooded the room, no one would've questioned it. He tossed the broken dagger pieces aside, one word cutting through the silence like a sword.
"Go."
Baldy didn't need to be told twice. He scrambled to his feet, waving his men toward the door. "Let's go! Move!" They fled, dragging their wounded, not daring to look back.
The office fell quiet, save for Susan's quiet sobs and the creak of damaged furniture. Wu turned to her, his aura softening. "It's over. You're safe."
Susan looked up, tears still streaming, but there was awe in her eyes now. "H-how…?"
Wu shrugged, the hint of a smile returning. "Let's just say I'm good at handling trouble."
But as he stared at the broken dagger on the floor, he knew—this was only the beginning. Power like his didn't stay hidden for long.
And in Beitian, trouble always found those who stood out.